i once kneeled in shaking thrill
by Alexandra Shinai
Summary: They'd found a relatively upscale club in London that promised secrecy for its patrons. No one would recognize Roger anyway; with the blonde wig and his heavy makeup and his skirt riding too high up his thighs, he looked like just another groupie. Or, Roger puts the Rogerina outfit to good use.


**I really didn't mean for this to take two months to write, but somehow that happened. I'm hoping it paid off.**  
**Also I didn't proofread this so any mistakes are Roger's fault.**

"Can I get you anything else?"

"We're fine, darling, but thank you."

Freddie rolled his eyes as the waitress disappeared, sipping from his glass to avoid voicing his thoughts about the woman who'd been serving them; absolutely none of them were civil, and he didn't quite feel like making a scene here when they fortunately had yet to be recognized by anyone.

John glanced at the miffed look on Freddie's face and bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Freddie, if looks could kill, you would be in prison for butchering her."

Roger lifted his head from the curve of John's neck and peeked over at Freddie, one glance at Freddie's deep frown and the tense lines of his body as he folded his arms across his chest all that was necessary to know that Freddie wasn't happy.

"What's the matter with him?" Roger murmured into John's ear, letting his lips brush over John's skin so it looked more like he was just trying to get closer to John instead of whispering about Freddie when he was only a foot away.

"I suppose he's bothered by the waitress," John answered, voice just as low as Roger's. "And maybe he's jealous that you're in my lap and not his. You're a sight to see like this," he added, squeezing Roger's hip possessively through the thin fabric of his little skirt.

Only a week prior, they'd finished filming their newest music video. Roger had taken it upon himself to suggest that, for the shoot, they do something they'd never done before. Of course, a fight nearly broke out between them when he insisted they dress up in drag, but with a couple of expertly-worn pouts and a few instances of putting his mouth to good use, he got them to give in; all these years together and he still had them all wrapped around his little finger.

He hadn't told any of them about the outfit he'd picked until they saw it for themselves the day of the shoot. He'd wanted to surprise them, knowing they'd have to be blind not to appreciate it: a little black skirt, so short that it barely skimmed the top of his thighs in the front and ended just below the curve of his ass in the back; tiny white knickers with a tiny red bow on the front; sheer black stockings that clung to his legs just so; knee-high socks, one carelessly rolled down to mid-calf; and a white button-up shirt that was a size too big and nearly see-through, paired with a long, bright-colored tie. He completed the outfit with a big blonde wig and two black-and-white bows.

He got the makeup artist to tack on some pink blush and some heavy mascara and eyeliner, accompanied by a coat of pink lip gloss that made his lips look impossibly full. When he looked in the mirror just before the shoot began, he hardly recognized himself; he resembled a pretty, almost-innocent schoolgirl.

He'd thoroughly enjoyed the looks on their faces when they finally saw him all dolled up, twirling in a circle so they could take in every angle, pulling the bottom of his skirt up a little so the edge of his knickers peeked out from underneath.

He made sure to blow them a kiss for maximum effect.

In the end, the scenes in which he was dressed in that little schoolgirl skirt took three days to film instead of one, and there was a lingering soreness in his body for days afterward from how many times Brian or John or Freddie (sometimes more than one) pulled him aside to fuck him in whatever quiet corner they could find on set, skirt bunched up around his waist and his knickers stuffed into his mouth to keep him quiet.

Tonight, the rest of the band had gone to the trouble of humoring Roger when he'd decided he wanted to go out dressed in that little outfit; of course Roger had stolen it from set after the shoot was completed. They—John in particular—had made some adjustments to what the original costume included; the top two buttons of his shirt were left open, his collar loose, the tie only barely knotted around his throat. He wasn't allowed to wear the stockings or even the knickers that he'd worn for the shoot; he'd originally protested that rule, until John had told him it was for "easier access" and Roger nearly came undone at the thought alone.

And instead of a shiny coat of pink lip gloss, Freddie had cupped Roger's face in his hand and carefully applied a layer of bright red lipstick to his lips. It was the kind that left marks wherever he pressed his lips, as he'd discovered upon kissing Freddie softly in thanks after Freddie had finished.

Roger quite liked being able to mark _them _up for a change.

They'd found a relatively upscale club in London that promised secrecy for its patrons. No one would recognize Roger anyway; with the blonde wig and his heavy makeup and his skirt riding too high up his thighs, he looked like just another groupie. But for the rest of the band, it was crucial that they didn't get recognized.

So far, they'd been here for an hour and no one had noticed them; save for their waitress, who, in Freddie's opinion, seemed to be coming over more frequently as the minutes passed and staying longer every time. Of course, Roger hadn't noticed; they'd given him a few toys to keep him occupied, a shiny metal cock ring sitting snugly around the base of his cock and a shiny silver plug with a pink jewel at the base. He could feel the plug pressing up inside him every time he shifted his weight, keeping him open and ready when they wanted him.

Roger was curled up in John's lap, his chin resting on John's shoulder and his arms wrapped around John's neck. John had an arm wrapped around Roger's side, keeping him close, warm and content in his embrace.

But then John was whispering to him again, voice so low it was audible only in his ear, so sweet it almost made Roger shiver. "Maybe you should go make him feel better," he suggested. "Be a good girl and take care of him."

Roger pulled back to look at John, seeing that knowing smirk turning up the corner of his lips.

"Right now?" Roger asked, playing up the 'innocent little girl' act; sitting back on John's lap with his eyes wide, letting go of John's neck to reach up and twirl a strand of the blonde hair around and around his fingertips. "But Daddy, someone could see! What if I get caught?"

"You want to be good for me, don't you, baby?" John asked, moving the hand that wasn't currently resting on Roger's hip up to his cheek, watching Roger's lips part with a sigh as John's thumb moved dangerously close to his mouth.

"Of course, Daddy. Always."

"Then go on," John coaxed. "Be a good girl and you'll get a nice reward."

That was enough to make Roger decide his next course of action; he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and crawled over John's lap. They were seated at a circular table with a booth arranged in a half-circle, with John at one end, Freddie at the other, and Brian right in the middle.

Doing his best not to slip or let his skirt ride up high enough to show his ass to anyone that wasn't his, Roger crawled across Brian's lap, unable to suppress the soft whine that came from his throat when Brian slipped a hand under his skirt as he went by, fingers gliding teasingly over the backs of his thighs and down his calves.

But of course, Brian's touch distracted him so much that when he was almost entirely out of Brian's lap and had nearly reached Freddie, he tripped over Brian's thigh and all but fell into Freddie's lap.

Brian's legs were too long and maybe Roger had snuck a drink or two.

"Well, hello there, kitten," Freddie said, his body language changing immediately at the sight of Roger all dressed up and sprawled atop his lap; his frown disappeared, his arms opening as he helped pull Roger into a sitting position, resulting in Roger straddling his thigh and smiling brightly at him.

"Hi," Roger greeted, seeking out Freddie's hand and lacing their fingers together, just because he felt like it. "Daddy said you needed me."

"Did he now?" Freddie asked, letting his eyes roam over Roger's body; how leaving the top two buttons of the shirt open left half his chest exposed, how his skirt was pushed up a little from his fall and from how he was seated on Freddie's thigh, almost daringly tempting.

"Uh-huh," Roger said, beaming like he was proud of that fact. "He said I should make you feel better. So here I am."

"He's very intuitive, that one," Freddie said, humming his approval. "I feel better already, having our pretty girl sitting in my lap. But," he added, exchanging a glance with John across the table, catching John's minute nod just before Freddie's eyes returned to Roger, "there's something you could do that would make me feel a _lot _better. Are you interested, darling?"

"Of course! You know I would do anything for you," Roger said, eyes bright.

"Then I want you to get down on your knees underneath this table and open that pretty mouth of yours for me, as wide as you can," Freddie said, using his free hand to stroke through the strands of Roger's hair.

"Daddy," Roger gasped, "we're in public! That's naughty, I can't do that!"

His protests were all part of the game; he might have looked horrified, but he was half-hard against Freddie's thigh at the thought, his head already swimming with arousal, and it took everything in him not to start rutting against Freddie's thigh in search of relief.

"But you said you would do _anything _for me," Freddie pointed out. "Our little girl wouldn't lie to me, would she?"

"No, Daddy, I'd never lie to you," Roger said, leaning in to Freddie's touch instinctively.

"And you're a good girl, aren't you?"

"Yes, Daddy. I'm a good girl, I'm _so_ good," he promised.

"Then get down on your knees, kitten. You'll just have to be very quiet so no one catches you," Freddie murmured, freeing his hand from Roger's hair to bring a finger to his lips as though he was shushing Roger.

It was with a long sigh that Roger slid off Freddie's thigh and slowly slipped down to the floor, doing his best to be as inconspicuous as possible. Freddie nudged him lightly with his foot, pressing him further underneath the table until Roger was surrounded by the canopy of the table. There was dim light to see by, provided only by the overhead lighting seeping through the thin fabric of the tablecloth. It was just bright enough for him to make out Freddie's legs in front of him, Brian's legs on his right, and John's legs behind him as he turned his head to explore the space.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to find Freddie shifting closer so that nearly his entire lower half was underneath the tablecloth, spreading his legs wide like an invitation. Roger didn't need to be asked twice, crawling in a little closer and sitting back on his knees between Freddie's feet, pressing a kiss to the inside of Freddie's thigh before he reached for the button on Freddie's trousers with shaking hands.

Roger fumbled with the button for a bit before he finally pulled it free, tugging Freddie's zipper down a short moment after. Normally, he would've gotten Freddie naked from the waist down, so Roger could take his time and appreciate everything; every curve and dip of his legs, up to the sides of his thighs and finally his cock. But he knew he had to be careful, had to keep them from getting caught, so he opened Freddie's trousers just wide enough to grasp the waistband of his pants and tug it down just enough to free Freddie's cock.

Freddie was half-hard already, still thicker and longer than Roger at full hardness. Roger leaned in and pressed his lips to the head in a soft kiss, wrapping his hand around the length and stroking a few times. He was rewarded with Freddie slipping his hand in Roger's hair in silent approval, Freddie's touch spurring him further. He took the head into his mouth, trailing his tongue over it briefly before he went deeper; taking more and more in until his mouth was stretched wide, breathing in slowly through his nose in an attempt not to choke.

Freddie had always been much too big for Roger to deepthroat, and with Freddie hardening fully under his touch, this time was no exception. He was barely halfway down the length of Freddie's cock and already he was having trouble going any further, his mouth stretched to its limit. He pulled back slightly, giving Freddie a few more strokes to slick his cock with Roger's spit. He was just about to speed up his strokes when he heard an unfamiliar voice, the dim light he was using to see nearly disappearing entirely as a shadow blocked it out; someone standing by the table.

He froze for a second, hearing the familiar lilt of Freddie's voice, sweet as saccharine in the way he'd speak to anyone he didn't like. Sitting there underneath the table as silent and still as he could, Freddie's legs bracketing him and Freddie's fingers in his hair, an idea formed in his mind that he acted upon before he could tell himself not to.

He sped up his strokes regardless of the person standing there speaking to Freddie, listening carefully to the way Freddie nearly choked mid-sentence. If it weren't for Freddie's cock in his mouth, Roger would have given himself away in a fit of laughter. He decided to continue sucking Freddie's cock as if nothing had happened, as if he was oblivious to the extra presence at the table.

Of course, as soon as the person walked away and Roger was finally able to see underneath the table again, he stopped, trying his hardest not to burst into laughter anyway. Freddie nudged his hip in affront with the toe of his shoe, grip tightening in Roger's hair until it was almost painful. The punishment was worth it to hear Freddie falter, even if only for a second.

After a moment, Roger started sucking again, pulling back slightly to press his tongue flat against the head to collect the drops of precum beading at the tip, listening to the conversation going on above him all the while.

"That poor woman," John sighed. "Promise me you won't murder her."

"I'll promise nothing," Freddie huffed. "She's got the audacity to bother us every two minutes, shoving her tits in our faces like we've got _any _interest in her tits at all!"

"She _is _being a bit bold," Brian conceded.

"And Roger down here is being a right brat," Freddie added.

For that, Roger took him down a little deeper, humming quietly as he sucked, matching the movement of his mouth with the movement of the hand wrapped around Freddie's cock, a rhythm he was intimately familiar with. He reveled in the audible hitch in Freddie's breath, the low moan as he sucked harder.

"You do realize the point of tonight is _not_ to bring attention to ourselves," John said dryly. "You're not doing a very good job of it, Freddie."

Freddie said something in response that Roger couldn't make out, focusing all his efforts on getting Freddie to come. He knew Freddie was close from the way he was shifting closer, pushing his cock farther down Roger's throat. And Freddie did have the tendency to get louder the closer he got to release; Roger was enjoying the little moans and pants he heard Freddie making as Roger sucked him off, his jaw aching but every nerve in his body thrumming with arousal.

"_Fuck,_" he heard Freddie say, and then his mouth was being flooded with the taste of Freddie's cum, hot on his tongue. He swallowed down nearly every drop, only faltering once and causing some to spill down his lips and onto his chin. When Freddie had nothing left to give him, Roger let his cock slip out of his mouth, reaching up to carefully tuck it back into his pants. He settled back down in between Freddie's legs, reaching out to swipe the stray drops of cum off his lips and chin, popping his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean with a pleased hum.

His lipstick was smeared across his fingers and across the head of Freddie's cock and he was already so hard it hurt.

Roger shifted forward to poke his head out from underneath the tablecloth, smiling sweetly at Freddie as Freddie stroked his hair softly in unspoken approval. "Was I good?" he asked.

"You were perfect, darling. Such a good girl you are," Freddie purred, his expression dark and pleased. "But I think our dear John needs a favor. Why don't you go see what he needs?"

"Of course," Roger said. They knew him well; when he was this far under, this immersed in whatever they chose to do to him, he would do anything they asked him to with pleasure. Even though they were out in public, the only ones that mattered to him at that moment, the only ones who even _existed _in that moment were Freddie, Brian, and John.

"That's a good kitten," Freddie said, slipping his hand free from the strands of Roger's hair, lightly patting his head once in encouragement.

Roger slipped back under the table, turning and crawling across the small, dim space to seek out John's legs; it was easy to tell the difference between his legs and Brian's legs even in such terrible lighting because John wouldn't be caught dead in a pair of Brian's clogs.

Roger settled down in front of John's legs with his feet tucked underneath him, pressing his cheek against John's knee in silent greeting. John's response was to spread his legs a little so Roger would fit snugly in between. As Roger pressed himself into the gap between John's feet, John's hand came down and made Roger almost pant in anticipation as John's fingers stroked over the top of his head, down the side of his cheek, down his chin and slowly down the column of his neck, grasping at the loose knot of his tie, lifting his tie and letting the fabric slide through his fingers until the pointed end of the tie was caught between his fingertips.

He wound the end of the tie around his hand and then tugged upward; just enough so that the knotted end of the tie would cut off Roger's airflow, just for a moment or two.

For Roger, everything was a little brighter for a moment as his breath was cut off, the collar of the tie pressing into his throat, and his chest burned a little until the tension was gone from his throat, allowing him to finally take in a deep lungful of air and breathe it out a little shakily.

"Are you enjoying this, Roger?" John asked, and Roger nodded quickly, pressing his cheek to the inside of John's thigh this time. It was only a moment later that he realized John couldn't see his nod—his body was still entirely hidden by the canopy of the tablecloth, even in their close proximity.

"Yes, Daddy," Roger finally breathed, voice a little raspy already, both from the way John had so casually cut off his air just minutes before and from taking Freddie's cock as far down his throat as he possibly could. He stretched up on his toes to again poke his head out from under the tablecloth, finding John's gaze intent on him, eyes dark with what looked like a promise.

"Of course you are," John added, voice dipping a little lower so it would be certain his words were meant only for Roger. "You're a naughty slut. Exactly the type of girl who would get wet from being used like this. Getting off on knowing that you could get caught with my cock down your throat, or caught getting fucked with your skirt pushed up so everyone can see who you belong to... who takes care of you."

Roger's breath hitched at the thought, and he realized his eyes were wet; perhaps from the desperation and need that was starting to build, so turned on it was almost painful, unable to get any relief without their approval.

"Please," Roger begged, not knowing if he was begging for relief or begging for them to use him in whatever way they wanted. "Please, Daddy, I need you."

John smiled, and Roger nearly shuddered as John's eyes swept over his body. He felt so _small, _so insignificant, so owned and controlled down here on the floor, like he was just their toy, the way it always had been. "Do you?"

"I do, I do, _please,_" Roger whined, voice cracking a little at the end of his sentence, clenching his hands into fists to resist the urge to touch himself, to straddle John's foot and rock himself against John's leg, even though it would ultimately get him nowhere. Whatever he did, John could stop him if he wanted to—the end of the tie was still wrapped around his hand, like a leash endlessly binding Roger to John.

Brian nudged John and said something that Roger didn't catch, and John's gaze left Roger for a brief moment, his eyes catching on something beyond the table that Roger couldn't see. And then his eyes were back on Roger's, the heat in his gaze making Roger flush hot all over.

"I want to see how desperate I've made you," John said. "Show me what you want."

There was so much that Roger wanted, he had no idea where to begin. Hearing another unfamiliar voice seemingly aimed in their direction, he quickly pressed himself back under the table, hiding himself just as a shadow blocked out the light again.

He was completely concealed, except that the end of the tie was still wrapped around John's fingers, and with more distance between John's hand and Roger's body than before, the collar was pressing into his neck, threatening to cut off his air again if he dared to move any more than an inch backwards.

Moving carefully so he wouldn't choke himself too terribly, he shifted his body to the right to straddle John's foot, pressing himself up on his knees again to grind his cock against John's shin through two layers of fabric. Even through those two layers, the touch felt so fucking _good _that Roger whined at the contact, mouthing sloppily at the top of John's knee to muffle his noises as he rocked his hips against John's leg.

He dimly heard Freddie's voice again, but all that was truly registering in his brain was John; under him, around him, _everything _was John, and Roger was so close he could feel it, feel the pressure at the tip of his cock, his desperation quickly turning into heat burning his skin, burning him up from the inside out.

And then he was forced to stop, slumping down against John's leg as the tie tightened around his throat, a gasp choked out of him as he tried to breathe in but failed, the sudden dizziness starting to make his vision swim but somehow making him even harder.

The tie finally loosened after what felt like forever, leaving Roger panting helplessly against John's leg, so desperate to come and so overstimulated that he found tears running down his cheeks as he tried to catch his breath.

In what little light remained in his vision, he saw John's fingers moving, letting go of the tie to presumably reach for the button of his trousers. Roger heard Freddie's voice then, sharp and reprimanding, and he nearly flinched until he realized Freddie wasn't speaking to him—he was speaking to whoever was standing by the table.

_Fuck, _there was an absolute stranger standing by the table and John was nonchalantly opening his trousers and pulling his cock out of his pants nonetheless. Granted, his hands were beneath the tablecloth and so were his hips, his cock visible only to Roger, but surely it looked suspicious for John to be sitting there with his hands in his lap, fiddling with something beneath the table.

Roger wouldn't dare question John's motives, though – they'd been doing this for well over ten years, to the point that letting him (or Freddie or Brian, for that matter) take control was so simple he hardly even thought about it. Roger would quite literally trust all of them with his life when he was this far under.

John beckoned him forward with a curl of his fingers, one hand slipping easily into Roger's hair as Roger crawled back into the space between his legs, letting his gaze focus on John's hand curled loosely around his hard cock. Roger opened his mouth and let the head lay flat on his tongue, allowing John to tighten his grip in Roger's hair and use it to push in deeper, until the full length of his cock was pressing deep into Roger's mouth, Roger moaning softly at the stretch and the feeling of John using him.

Roger didn't need any encouragement to continue, sucking on John's cock like it was the only thing he knew how to do, like he didn't care about anyone potentially standing nearby; like the only thing that mattered was making John feel good, getting him off, because that was Roger's _job _and he was going to be a good girl and do everything that was asked of him.

John was stroking his head softly in unspoken encouragement as Roger focused his efforts, slowly moving his mouth up and down the length of John's cock; taking his sweet time, closing his eyes and enjoying the slow sweep of John's fingers through his hair, the feeling of John's cock filling his mouth. Roger let his mouth go slack, letting John curl his fingers in Roger's hair and simply use him, tugging Roger's head forwards and then backwards to chase his pleasure without moving his hips too much and making it obvious to anyone nearby that there was someone sitting under the table sucking him off.

A choked gasp fell from John's lips as Roger curled his tongue against the underside of John's shaft as John fucked his mouth. With the sound, John nearly gave himself away until he managed to disguise it as a cough, prompting Freddie to paste his best fake smile on his face and ask their waitress for a glass of water for John, briefly meeting John's eyes across the table with a knowing look on his face as the waitress walked away.

Roger knew John was close; he'd been lucky enough to find three boys who generally shared even his most perverse kinks, and this was no exception. He knew the thrill of potentially getting caught was racing through John's blood just like it was simmering heavy in his own, making Roger's cock throb with persistent arousal as John tugged on his hair, movements growing shorter and sloppier with each passing moment.

John stilled with another gasp, his cock buried in Roger's mouth as far as he could take it, pulsing as he came in spurts down Roger's throat. Roger did his best to swallow every drop, take everything John gave him; he was good, he was good, he was _so _good. He'd been doing this long enough that it was easy for him now, to deepthroat them, to let them fill his mouth with cum, and maybe he quite liked the taste of their cum.

So he greedily drank everything John gave him and let John's cock slip free of Roger's mouth when he was finished, John's grip in his hair loosening as Roger pressed an appreciative kiss to the inside of his thigh; a silent 'thank you' for what he'd been given, what they'd let him do.

Roger was acutely aware of the burning need in his bones, the desire to be touched blocking out any other sense in his mind as the distraction of John's cock disappeared. He whined softly, squirming and rocking his hips against nothing, torn between the urge to touch himself without asking permission and the desperate need to be good for them, to touch himself only when they told him he could.

He was on the verge of giving in, his palm sliding slowly down the expanse of his chest and his abdomen, nearing his cock when John, unbeknownst to him, had grasped the end of his tie again and used it to pull him upwards, immediately distracting Roger from his neglected cock. His eyes watered as his airflow was cut off, his body tugged forward between John's open legs until his elbows were resting on the cushion between John's thighs, head tilted upwards, although he could see nothing but the fabric of the tie wound tightly around John's fingers, the tablecloth obscuring anything else from Roger's view.

John tugged a little harder, pushing the tablecloth up at the seam with his free hand so he could see Roger's wide eyes, tears brimming on the edge of his lashes; cheeks reddened and flushed, lipstick smudged irreparably, a silent plead spilling from his parted lips.

"You're being such a good girl, aren't you? Letting us use you to get off, right here in public where anyone could catch you choking on our cocks like the filthy slut you are. You love it, don't you?" John asked, loosening the grip he held on Roger's tie as he began speaking, pausing to give Roger a chance to answer.

"Yes, Daddy," he breathed, voice rough, fucked out to the point of a rasp forming on the edge of his words.

"Yes, what?" John prompted, shifting slightly to press the edge of the tablecloth between his knee and the seat so that he could cup Roger's face in his free hand and force Roger's gaze to meet his, Roger's eyes shining with tears that had yet to spill. "I need you to be specific."

"I love it," Roger said, stumbling slowly through the words; sometimes in situations like these, he'd end up losing control of his voice entirely, left unable to say anything coherent, reduced to nothing but a crying, whimpering mess until several minutes after it was over and his boys were coaxing him back to life. It was apparent that this would soon become the case; he was currently only able to form his sentences slowly, words barely slipping off the tip of his tongue with more effort than he was able to produce. "I'm being a good girl, I'm _your _good girl, I love it," he said, faltering once he realized he was merely repeating himself.

But John was John, and John knew him, and John smiled so brightly at his attempts to speak that Roger forgot anything but the burst of warmth in his chest as John stroked his cheek so tenderly it was almost too much for him to bear.

"You're always so good for us, Roger," John murmured, approval so thick in his tone that Roger squirmed at the heady feeling of the praise coursing through his veins. "You did such a good job taking care of me and Freddie, so I think it's only fair that you help Brian out too, wouldn't you agree?"

Roger nodded fervently, a sigh leaving his lips as John's thumb dragged a teasing path over his bottom lip, coming back sticky with a leftover drop of cum that Roger quickly licked off John's skin.

"Then go ahead," John coaxed. "He's waiting for you."

John let the tie slip through his fingers again, the end dropping to hang loosely over the column of Roger's stomach. With the other hand, he stroked Roger's cheek once more before letting go, shifting his position to let the tablecloth again conceal Roger entirely, allowing him to crawl over to Brian without being seen by anyone else.

Roger nudged Brian's legs apart easily and pressed himself into the small gap between them, leaving a trail of featherlight kisses up the inside of each of Brian's thighs through the fabric of his trousers, stemming more from a desire to be close to Brian than from anything else. He reached up to carefully unbutton Brian's trousers, humming low in his throat when Brian spread his legs wider, granting him better access to one of Roger's favorite parts of Brian's body.

Roger tugged Brian's zipper down, hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of Brian's pants to pull his cock out, already fully hard even though Roger had barely touched him.

Roger quite liked knowing they were just as filthy as he was.

Brian shifted a little bit, moving forward on the seat just a few inches so that Roger could easily wrap his hand around the base of Brian's cock, give him a few strokes, and then wrap his lips around the head of Brian's cock, taking him down slowly, a low moan leaving Roger's throat as Brian's length stretched his mouth wide.

"That's it," he heard Brian whisper, voice so low that Roger barely caught the words, yet knowing instinctively they were meant for him. "Such a good girl you are. You're doing so well."

Praise was never sweeter than when it came from Brian's lips. Roger whined softly as he pressed forward, hands wrapping around Brian's calves to steady himself as he went deeper, nearly choking as he tried to take Brian's cock all the way down his throat.

"Easy," Brian said, fingers pushing gently through strands of Roger's hair as Roger stilled, another muffled whine leaving his mouth as he tried desperately not to choke and not to be forced to pull back. "Take it easy, pretty girl," Brian added, his grip in Roger's hair tightening a little as Roger exhaled slowly and began to suck in earnest, his hands sliding up past Brian's knees to rest atop Brian's thighs. Roger dug in his nails a little and sucked harder, eliciting a low moan from Brian that Roger felt echo throughout his body. "That's it, sweet girl. Just like that."

Roger's mouth and jaw were starting to hurt, not just from being stretched out around Brian's cock, but a residual ache from sucking off both Freddie and John as well in such a short time period. His knees felt scraped raw from all the time he'd spent on the floor, his skirt bunched up too high to provide any relief from the rough surface. He was so hard it hurt, his cock straining against the metal ring that prevented him from coming too early, resisting the urge to rock back onto the plug that he felt shifting with every movement; slow, teasing strokes inside him, so much and so little at once that it was overwhelming.

Instinctively, he knew this was where he belonged, where he'd always belong; kneeling at the feet of one of his lovers, taking care of them the way only he could while they indulged his every desire, even his most shameful ones.

Roger shut his eyes and let his muscle memory take over, letting each and every one of Brian's sharp breaths and barely-stifled moans guide him, his jaw burning as Brian's cock filled his mouth, but it was such a pleasant ache Roger didn't even mind.

He knew his lovers so well that when he felt the muscles of Brian's upper thighs starting to twitch underneath his palms, it was apparent that Brian was close, and not even a moment later he was spilling hot down Roger's throat with another poorly-disguised moan. Roger drank up every drop of cum Brian had to give him and then pulled back and opened his eyes to lap up anything he'd missed.

He'd barely finished when suddenly there was a hand tightly clenching the front of his shirt, tie and all, tugging him up and out from under the table forcefully, making Roger narrowly miss smacking his head on the underside of the table. All Roger could do was squeak in surprise as Brian pulled him up on his lap, hauling him in for a filthy kiss with Brian's cum still on his tongue. Roger moaned softly into Brian's mouth as Brian kissed him, hot and heavy with his tongue delving into Roger's mouth and lapping up his own cum, letting it sit on his own tongue for a moment before he kissed it right back into Roger's mouth.

The taste of Brian was on his tongue, Brian's hands were all over him, he was sitting on Brian's lap; everything was Brian, Brian, _Brian, _and it felt so good to be surrounded by him, especially when their lips finally separated and Roger caught sight of his red lipstick smeared all over Brian's mouth, something possessive curling through his gut.

Then Brian pulled him closer and angled his head so he could murmur sweet filth into Roger's ear, words that made Roger want to grind against Brian's thigh in search of relief, his head swimming with sharp, unyielding arousal that seemed fit to consume him. "Such a dirty girl, aren't you? A filthy little slut. Perhaps we should bend you over this table, flip your little skirt up and fuck you until you can't walk and we have to carry you out with our cum still dripping out of you. You'd love that, wouldn't you? Everyone watching you come apart, watching us take advantage of this little doll that crawled into our laps, begging so sweet for our cocks."

It was as if the words flipped a switch within Roger, reaching out and exposing the deepest, darkest parts of him, the parts he trusted only Freddie, Brian, and John to see. Roger opened his mouth to answer, but words failed him; instead, a half-sob left his throat, his cheeks flushing red as his eyes welled up with tears, tears that quickly spilled over and flowed rapidly down his face, and he could feel Freddie and John looking at him worriedly, but no matter how hard he tried or what he did he couldn't stop the tears, nor could he explain why Brian's words had brought him to that point.

"Rog," Brian said, voice softer now, the edge in his tone gone as he pulled back to study Roger's face, the way Roger was still sniffling and sobbing and probably causing a scene. "Are you alright?"

Roger nodded quickly; although he still couldn't stifle his cries, his chest heaving and his body shaking in Brian's lap, he still wanted this, wanted _them; _there was an acute ache inside of him that only they could fill, both physically and in plenty of other ways.

"Tell us what you need, darling," he heard Freddie say, seated only a few feet to Brian's left. Roger turned his head to meet Freddie's gaze, catching something dark in the depths of Freddie's eyes, a hunger that matched his own.

Roger gathered up all the coherence he had left to speak his next words.

"Fuck me," he breathed. "Please."

The slow smile that appeared on Freddie's face made a shiver crawl up Roger's spine, another burst of arousal coursing through him.

"That's exactly what I hoped you would say," Freddie said. "Be a good girl and come over here. Come sit in my lap, kitten."

Brian stroked a hand over Roger's cheek, wiping away a few stray tears as Roger finally quieted, his sobs ceasing for the moment. Then he shifted slightly, leaning forward to press his lips to Roger's ear, whispering low so his words were unintelligible to anyone else.

"I'm having you later," Brian promised, pulling back to meet Roger's eyes. Roger nodded, a shaky breath leaving his lips as Brian smiled at him, all warm with only the barest hint of what was to come. "Off you go."

And then Roger was stumbling, barely having enough coordination to catch himself just before he would fall off the seat of the booth entirely, although Brian's hands were on his waist to steady him as he managed to slowly crawl across Brian's lap and into Freddie's, his limbs feeling heavy and his mind foggy.

"Hello again," Freddie purred as Roger reached his lap, kneeling with his legs spread wide across Freddie's thighs, Freddie's hands automatically settling on his waist to keep him steady. Roger reached out before he even realized what he was doing, fingers grasping at the waistband of Freddie's pants, his trousers still open from when Roger had sucked him off. He'd just started to tug Freddie's pants down when Freddie's hand closed over his, stopping him in his tracks.

"I know you're needy tonight, darling, but there are a few things I want to go over before you get too far under to remember them."

Roger frowned in mild disappointment, but he nodded nevertheless.

"First of all, you're not to come unless we say you can. And that means absolutely _no _touching your cock ring, even if we say you can come. We put it on you, so we'll take it off when we want you to come. Is that clear?"

Roger nodded again, squirming impatiently on Freddie's lap.

"Good. Secondly, you must remember that we _are _in public. So you'll need to be very quiet and not make too much movement. We can't risk truly getting caught, although I do know the idea of it must be driving you mad. If you can keep quiet and be still, perhaps you'll get a very nice reward. How does that sound?"

Roger was so wound up that he was already far beyond the realm of verbal response, so all he could do was whine and nod again, almost frantic. He desperately needed one of them to take care of him, to fill the ache in his body, to calm the arousal boiling hot in his blood, burning so bright he felt like he could scarcely contain it any longer.

Freddie smiled at him again, and then Roger nearly jumped when he felt one of Freddie's hands slide down his waist and disappear under his skirt, another shiver curling up his spine as Freddie's fingers dipped into the space between his cheeks, ghosting over his rim as they settled atop the plug that was keeping him spread open and ready.

He moaned low in his throat as Freddie slowly tugged it free, leaving him feeling empty until Freddie's other hand slipped underneath his skirt as well, easily pressing one finger inside of him. Roger's hole was a little loose and still slick with lube, so Freddie added a second finger, testing how ready he was for Freddie's cock to fill him.

Roger dropped his face into the crook of Freddie's neck, soft whimpers leaving his mouth as Freddie slowly fucked him with his fingers, spreading them apart and stretching them out until Roger finally couldn't take it anymore, sinking his teeth into Freddie's collarbone to muffle his frustrated cry. He didn't _care _if anyone was watching, he didn't _care _if someone heard him moaning and begging to get fucked; he just needed one of them to fuck him, preferably as soon as possible.

"Am I taking too long?" Freddie asked, amusement coloring his tone as Roger rocked down on his fingers, only a moment before Freddie slowly pulled them out, wiping the stickiness on the edge of Roger's skirt. Roger simply moaned again, the only response he could give when he was too far gone to find words.

Freddie moved a hand up Roger's back, ruffling up his shirt and stopping at the nape of his neck, tightening his grip to pull Roger's face from his neck so their eyes could meet once more. It took only one glance for Freddie to know that Roger was extremely far under; the way his eyes were dark and almost glazed over, those pretty lips parted on heaving breaths, the dark smudges down his cheeks where his makeup had run when he'd started sobbing.

"Are you still with me, kitten?" Freddie asked. He received a single nod in response, although Roger's bottom lip was starting to tremble as Freddie looked at him. "I'm going to fuck you, I promise," he said, dropping his voice into a low murmur that echoed only in the inches between their faces. "But I need you to be quiet, okay?"

The plug was still sitting in Freddie's palm, resting against the curve of Roger's ass. Slowly, Freddie traced over Roger's skin with the end of it, cold plastic dragging over feverish skin, making Roger shiver as Freddie traced over his thigh, up the outside of his skirt, and then slowly up his side, bumping along the edge of his ribs and then darting over his chest, pausing briefly at his nipple, hardening under the cool touch. He moved it higher still, dragging it over the jutting edge of Roger's collarbone, and then moving it up to the side of his neck, feeling his pulse fluttering under the skin and then jumping as Freddie pressed down a little with the tapered end of the plug.

But Freddie didn't stop there; he trailed it higher, gliding it over the edge of Roger's jaw, watching Roger's eyes slip shut as Freddie traced over his cheekbone with slow, delicate strokes.

And then he brought the end to Roger's lips, tracing slowly over the pout of his bottom lip before he tapped it gently against his lip, once and then twice in unspoken instruction.

"Open up for me, darling," Freddie coaxed. There was hardly a moment's hesitation before Roger's mouth fell open, his eyes still shut and his jaw hanging slack, the red curve of his lips a downright sinful invitation that made Freddie's cock twitch as if he hadn't already taken advantage of those pretty lips and what they could do. Forcing himself not to lose focus, he slid the length of the plug into Roger's mouth, watching Roger's eyes reopen as he realized what Freddie was doing, a hitched moan escaping him as his mouth was stretched out around the plug's silver surface. It was too big to sit entirely in Roger's mouth without hurting him, so Freddie stopped about halfway, letting go of the base and placing his now-empty hand on the small of Roger's back. Roger's eyes were starting to well up with tears again, and he blinked rapidly as if to clear them, making wetness spill down his cheeks and leave fresh tracks through his makeup.

"Feeling alright?" Freddie asked, and Roger nodded quickly. His cock was still standing hard in the space between them, tenting and dampening the fabric of his skirt. One of Freddie's hands moved from the nape of his neck to his front, teasingly tracing over the space where the head of Roger's cock met the skirt, and Roger whined and jerked his hips forward, begging wordlessly for more.

Instead, Freddie pulled back, the hand on the small of Roger's back sliding down to his hip while the other reached for the waistband of his pants, glancing up over Roger's shoulder to make sure there was no one too terribly near. He caught John's eye and John offered him a single nod of approval, a signal that he could continue.

So Freddie pulled down the waistband of his pants, biting his lip to muffle his groan as some of the pressure on his cock was eased. Just having Roger in his lap all dolled up and flushed and needy and begging was enough to make him almost impossibly hard, his cock already leaking precum.

Freddie wrapped one hand around his cock and used the other to hitch Roger's skirt up around his waist, not caring if anyone got an eyeful of the curve of Roger's ass or his hard cock jutting out from under the fabric. From there, it was easy enough to dig his fingers into Roger's hip, line up his cock with Roger's hole, and press Roger down onto it, Roger's thighs trembling as he sank down onto it, a drawn out whimper falling from his lips as he pressed his face into Freddie's neck again.

They'd been fucking for years and years and Roger still had trouble taking Freddie's cock all the way in one smooth motion, so Freddie took it slow, taking his hand off his cock and placing it on Roger's other hip to hold him steady as Roger finally bottomed out. Roger whined again, needy and high-pitched even with the plug muffling the sound. Freddie stroked his back slowly, trying not to lose himself to the feeling of Roger's ass clenched tight around him; it was all too tempting to bend Roger over the table and fuck him senseless in front of everyone, but the goal was _not _to draw attention, and Freddie had a feeling that would draw plenty of attention.

"_Shit,_" Freddie heard Brian say, and he barely had a chance to look up from Roger before Brian was reaching over and hastily tugging Roger's skirt down so that it concealed what they were doing, making it look as though Freddie was just holding Roger in his lap; or namely, a pretty blonde groupie, not their drummer who the general public presumed was straight, much less in a long-term relationship with his three bandmates.

Freddie managed to tear his eyes away from Roger's body in his lap to find their waitress hovering by the table again, and if looks could kill she wouldn't have survived a single second longer.

"Can I help you?" he asked, not even trying to keep the irritation out of his tone this time; he was _clearly _in the middle of something.

"I was just wondering if you needed anything else," she said, leaning over the table, apparently undeterred by the sight of the blonde heap in Freddie's lap. Freddie opened his mouth to offer her some choice words, but John cut him off before he could even begin to speak.

"We're fine, thank you," John said, flashing her his best charming smile, which seemed to be enough to get her to leave them alone for the time being, if only for a few minutes. "Freddie, you've got to calm down or we'll all get kicked out. Why don't you just sit and enjoy Roger, and if she comes back, I'll handle it."

"Fine," Freddie sighed, sliding his hands down underneath Roger's skirt to cup his ass, using his grip to pull Roger up slightly and then pull him back down, fucking him slowly—as much as he wanted to fuck him quick and dirty, the arousal in his gut demanding immediate attention, that clearly wasn't an option here.

Roger whined again as Freddie's cock shifted inside him, pressing up against the most sensitive spot inside him and making sparks shoot up his spine. He was so turned on he was shaking; getting fucked in plain view of all these strangers, looking like a cheap, filthy whore, being nothing more than the band's groupie serving as some quick stress relief.

Freddie silenced a moan of his own by pressing his lips to Roger's temple in a sloppy kiss, lips parted in a harsh breath as Roger rocked down against him, somehow so tight even though they'd fucked him open thoroughly beforehand with tongues and fingers. Roger's cock was pressed against his stomach and Roger's hands were clenching fistfuls of Freddie's shirt, mouth forming sweet little moans and whimpers around the plug, spit starting to drip from his stretched-out lips onto Freddie's skin, and the sensations rolling through his body as Roger started to fuck himself on Freddie's cock in earnest were almost too much for Freddie to bear.

Brian leaned in close, pushing a hand through Roger's hair and pressing his mouth close to Roger's ear, whispering filth in that sweet lilting tone of his.

"You're taking him so well, pretty girl," Brian said, his free hand moving to the edge of Roger's skirt, tugging it up a little so he could see where Freddie and Roger fit together; the stretch of Roger's hole around Freddie's cock, the way Roger's thighs trembled as he held himself up above Freddie, rolling his hips to press him in deeper. "It's like you were made for this. Just made for us to fuck whenever we want… bend you over the recording desk in the studio, fuck you until you're _screaming. _You're such a dirty little slut, Rog. I know you want to get caught; having us watch just isn't enough for you now, is it? No, you want the entire world to see how much you like us splitting you open."

Roger was moving faster now, unconsciously speeding up the rocking of his hips as he listened to Brian's words, chasing a peak he wouldn't reach for a while longer. Yet every movement of his body was bringing Freddie closer to the edge, combined with the way Roger was panting and whining and moaning at every touch despite all their best attempts to quiet him.

Freddie was so close, could feel it burning in the pit of his stomach, and he pushed his hips up a bit to meet Roger in the middle, far beyond caring if they made a scene. His hands tightened on Roger's ass, squeezing as Freddie fucked into him, and then Brian's voice was in his ear as well, a low purr of encouragement.

"Come on, fill her up," Brian urged. "She needs it. Look at our girl, she's an absolute wreck. But she's ours to do whatever we want with, so we should take advantage."

Roger moaned a little louder, his hands unclenching only to sink his nails into Freddie's shirt, pressing sharply against his skin even through the fabric, and Freddie's hips were stuttering and then he was coming, a barely-muffled moan of Roger's name spilling from his lips as his cum filled Roger.

Roger's skin was damp with sweat and perhaps a few more tears when Freddie was finally empty, his chest heaving as Freddie slid his palms down to the curve of Roger's inner thighs to help pull him up and off Freddie's softening cock.

Brian's eyes met Freddie's as he pulled out of Roger, an expectant smirk on Brian's face.

"My turn," he said.

"All yours," Freddie answered.

It took a bit of work to pull Roger from Freddie's lap and into Brian's, with Roger's skirt hitched up above his waist and Freddie looking decidedly unkempt and flushed, but with some time and John watching their surroundings to make sure no one was paying attention to them, Brian was finally able to gather Roger in his lap.

Somehow, riding Freddie had made Roger go even farther under, and when he was transferred to Brian's lap Roger wound his arms tight around Brian's neck and refused to let go, little half-sobs leaving Roger's lips as he pressed his face into Brian's hair. Brian rubbed Roger's back slowly as Roger trembled in his arms, murmuring soft praise until the noises ceased and Roger was no longer shaking.

"Will you look at me?" Brian finally asked, once he was sure that Roger had his fill of crying, at least for the moment. There was only a brief pause before Roger's grip around his neck loosened just slightly, and then Roger was looking at him with eyes wide, something pleading in his silent stare. Brian curled one hand around Roger's hip and used his free hand to tug the plug from where it was still clenched in Roger's mouth, the plastic coming away covered in Roger's spit, leaving those pretty lips even redder and open around nothing but air. "Are you alright, love? How are you feeling?"

It seemed as though ages passed before Roger was able to formulate a response, his brain so fuzzy it was hard to make sense of anything he was feeling. "So much," was his answer, words slurred a little.

"Not _too_ much, though?" Roger shook his head rapidly; that was the one thing he was sure of, that he wanted this, needed this, for all that it was a release for him and for his boys. The humiliation that burned under his skin when he was reduced to a sobbing mess with makeup running and cum drying sticky in so many places as they called him a slut and a whore and a dirty little girl gave him a high that he could only replicate onstage by attacking his drum kit with a vengeance.

Maybe it was a little bit fucked up, but they loved him anyway.

"Tell me what you want," Brian encouraged him, the hand on Roger's hip pressing in just a little bit, just enough to tease the bite of his nails against Roger's skin, making Roger squirm in his grasp.

"You," Roger answered, nodding slowly as if in confirmation, possibly both for Brian and himself. "You."

"I'm happy to tell you that can be arranged," Brian said, smiling softly as Roger just stared, a desperate hunger lying in those blue depths. Brian gently pushed the plug back into Roger's mouth, again leaving it sticking out halfway so as not to choke him. And then his free hand was slipping down Roger's body, wrist curling under the back of his thigh as he slipped one finger inside Roger.

Roger moaned a little too loudly and rocked back against Brian's finger, making it sink in deeper, all the way down to his last knuckle. His hole was slick with a mess of lube and Freddie's cum, and Brian was able to easily add a second finger and spread the two apart, testing to make sure Roger was ready for his cock.

From the way Roger was whining around the plug and squirming and trying to fuck himself on Brian's fingers, it was pretty clear that Roger was more than ready.

Brian pulled his fingers free, wiping them clean on the crease of Roger's thigh. He clutched Roger's hip a little tighter with the other hand, using his free hand to tug down the waistband of his pants, having left his trousers open after Roger sucked him off. Brian wrapped his hand around his cock, giving himself a few slow strokes and biting his bottom lip to muffle his reaction to the shock of pleasure that raced up his spine, anticipation simmering in his blood.

He lined up his cock with Roger's hole, teasingly brushing the head against it but then pulling back every time Roger tried to press himself down on Brian's cock. If it weren't for the plug filling his mouth, Roger would've been spitting out every angry curse he knew in his imminent frustration.

Roger was so fucking hard that it _ached, _his cock throbbing and dripping precum, and he'd been so good that he hadn't even tried to touch himself once and he really deserved a reward for that, so Brian should just hurry up and fuck him instead of torturing him by being a massive tease.

But he couldn't voice any of that, so he just whined louder and unwound his arms from around Brian's neck, grabbing fistfuls of the collar of Brian's shirt and tugging petulantly.

It was enough to get Brian's attention. "Need something, princess?"

Another whine and another tug at Brian's shirt was Roger's response.

"He's telling you to hurry up," John said, amusement clear in his voice as the scene played out before him.

Brian sighed in mock exasperation. "I didn't realize our girl was such a little brat," he said, to which Roger hummed agreeably and the corner of John's lips twitched.

Then Brian was pushing into him in one smooth thrust, using the hand on Roger's hip to pull him down so they met in the middle, the slick slide of the mixture of lube and cum inside Roger making it easy for Brian to fill him completely, pausing once his cock was completely buried in Roger's ass.

John leaned over and pulled the bottom edge of Roger's skirt down from where it had ridden up Roger's thighs, carefully shielding what they were doing from wandering eyes. Brian moved his free hand to Roger's other hip, clutching him hard enough to leave bruises as he adjusted to the feeling of Roger clenched around his cock, so tight and wet it was obscene. It was all Brian could do to keep quiet and not incriminate himself, leaving him valiantly attempting to make it seem like he was just letting a random groupie curl up in his lap while the band enjoyed a few drinks. But Freddie and John seemed to be having a difficult time not leering at Roger, their gazes hungry like they wanted to taste the sweat that was plastering his shirt to his chest, like they wanted to fill his mouth with something other than the plastic plug, even though they'd all already had the chance.

John leaned in again, this time letting his hand creep into Brian's lap, sneaking underneath Roger's skirt and trailing his fingertips down the curve of Roger's ass, slipping swiftly between his cheeks and stroking over his rim. Brian gasped softly when John's fingers brushed over the base of his shaft, sliding slick in the mess of cum that Brian had fucked out of Roger, dripping onto his lap as Roger rolled his hips to force Brian deeper.

"Such a slut," John commented, a hint of a smirk on his lips as he changed the angle of his wrist and fingers, pressing in just a little bit more. Then Roger was choking on a moan, immediately clinging tight to Brian again as John slowly pressed his index finger inside Roger, tight against Brian's cock.

It was enough to make Roger burst into tears again, overwhelmed by the sensation of being filled up and stretched out in a room full of strangers. It wasn't like Roger had never taken more than one cock at once; Brian and Freddie and John had shared his hole on numerous occasions, two at a time, getting off on the sensation of Roger's hole stretched around them and their cocks rubbing together as they fucked into him. It was just that he was already so dizzy with need that the feeling of John's fingers along Brian's cock inside him made his vision blur, and he clung tightly to Brian, burying his face in Brian's neck as his body shook.

John shifted to settle right beside Brian, their thighs touching as John grasped Roger's ankle with his free hand, pulling his leg into John's lap so he was more spread open. And then he was murmuring filth into Roger's ear, voice pitched low, saying things that had Roger rutting against Brian's chest in search of unattainable relief as John pressed another finger into him, the stretch so tight he could barely move his fingers.

"Come on, princess, you can take it," John encouraged, making Roger whine and grind down on his fingers in response. "Your pussy's so wet I think you could take all three of us at once. You're _dripping _for us. Only a little whore would get so wet from this. You like everyone seeing you getting taken apart, getting ruined for anyone else? But we're the only ones who can have you like this, isn't that right, Roger? Just a slut for us and no one else."

There was something possessive in his tone, something dark that made Roger whimper and nod frantically in response, desperation peaking as he fucked himself on Brian's cock, as John fucked Roger with his fingers at a matching pace.

Brian was close already, the combination of Roger looking irrevocably wrecked atop him and John helping him along with his knuckles brushing against Brian's cock every time he moved his hand bringing him to the edge quickly. He started to meet Roger in the middle, canting his hips up as Roger rocked down on him.

"Fuck," Brian hissed, heat curling through him and pooling in his stomach as Roger moaned, long and loud like a cheap whore even with his face pressed into Brian's neck and his mouth filled. Brian was cresting the edge, and then Roger tightened around him and it was too much and he was coming, dropping his head to bite sharply at the skin stretched over Roger's collarbone to muffle his groan as he spilled inside him.

Brian was panting as John carefully pulled his fingers from Roger's ass, a soft noise escaping him as John's fingers brushed against his oversensitive softening cock on the way out. Roger was content to stay in his lap, unwinding his arms from around Brian's neck and gently pushing on Brian's chest to sit up, shivering at the wet slide of cum inside him and the way it threatened to leak out of him as he raised himself up just enough for Brian's cock to slip free.

"I _distinctly _remember someone telling me we had to be careful and act casual so we wouldn't attract attention. But that was an attention-grabber if I've ever seen one," Freddie huffed, folding his arms across his chest, a frown settling on his features. If he'd stuck his bottom lip out, he would've easily resembled Roger in the midst of a tantrum.

"There's no need for jealousy, Freddie," John scolded lightly, in the midst of sliding back to his spot in the booth directly opposite of Freddie. "When we take him home, you can do whatever you'd like to him."

"Great, when are we leaving?"

There was a dark gleam in John's eyes as he opened his mouth to respond. "When I've had my fill."

"Get on with it then," Freddie said impatiently, waving a hand in Roger's general direction; of course, Roger didn't notice, head clouded with his arousal and nothing else.

"You're insatiable, Fred," Brian said with a shake of his head, finally starting to catch his breath after the heady, powerful orgasm that had ripped through him.

It was several long moments later that Roger was finally able to collect himself and crawl out of Brian's lap. His lipstick was smeared beyond recognition, his shirt was rumpled and damp and somehow rucked up to bare his stomach, marked with small, purpled bruises from when they'd bent him over another piece of furniture that wasn't meant for that purpose and the edges had bitten into his skin. His skirt had ridden up high enough to expose everything to anyone who bothered to look hard enough; his swollen, flushed cock, the shiny silver ring at the base, the reddened marks on his ass, the sticky streaks of cum between his cheeks and down the backs of his thighs.

But it was such a sight to see the sway of Roger's ass marked with their possession as he slowly crawled down the length of the booth that they were all a little too far gone to care who else saw.

Freddie apparently wasn't the only impatient one; Roger had barely made it into John's lap before John was tugging him closer, settling him flush with John's chest, facing him so their cover was less likely to be blown. Roger clung tightly to him in the same way he had clung tightly to Brian just minutes before, his arms wrapped around John's neck and face pressed against the underside of John's jaw.

John pressed into him without warning, making Roger whine into the curve of his neck as John's cock slowly filled him, the fit a bit more loose than before but still tight, slicked with cum and traces of lube dripping out of him and sliding sticky down his inner thighs. Roger was shaking as John bottomed out, John's hands settling on his hips over his skirt, his thumbs stroking absentminded, soothing patterns on Roger's body.

"Are you alright?" John asked, voice low and a little rough from the arousal settling hot in his veins. Roger nodded, unable to give a verbal response with the plug still silencing him, and most likely much too far under to formulate words even if they removed the plug from his mouth. "Enjoying yourself, hmm?" Another nod, a little rushed this time, as if Roger was growing impatient.

Of course, John knew that during nights like these, Roger remained perpetually impatient; whining and needy, demanding to be touched and taken care of before anyone else. Even when they took the time to gag and blindfold him and tie him up, Roger had always found a way to make it clear in his body language; he would tremble, arch his back, spread his legs as far apart as he could get them. He'd be begging without saying a single word, and usually they'd give in when his eyes started to glitter with tears.

But not tonight; Roger could cry and whimper as much as he wanted to, but he'd still have to wait until the rest of them were satisfied before he would get to be touched.

Perhaps even longer.

Roger rocked down against him then, something like a muffled moan on his lips as he pressed into the friction, the combined feeling of John's cock inside him and his own hard cock rubbing against the fabric of his skirt as it pressed insistently against John's stomach proving overwhelming.

John smiled as Roger ground down against him, seeking relief that would only come from John's hands – both figuratively and literally. He pressed his own hips up minutely, the head of his cock sliding against the most sensitive spot inside Roger, and Roger nearly _screamed _even with the plug muffling most of the noises he'd made while his boys had used him.

Roger was so wound up from his boys using him and touching him and fucking him while he could do nothing but let them do as they pleased that even the slightest touch, the slightest movement inside him had him aching for more, so desperate he could think of nothing but his own pleasure, his own need.

One of John's hands slipped underneath Roger's shirt, sliding slowly up his back and stopping just between his shoulderblades, fingertips pressing down just enough to pull Roger closer so John could murmur praise into Roger's ear as John started fucking him, slow enough so they wouldn't get caught, sweet enough to stoke the flames of pleasure burning hot within their bodies.

"You're such a slut for Daddy, aren't you? So desperate to come you'd do anything for it. If I could, I'd lay you out across this table and fuck you with all these people watching," John said, his voice near a growl as the image flickered in his mind, begging to be expanded upon. "We'd all fuck you, one at a time, or maybe even two at a time. Or all of us sharing you at once; one of us fucking your throat, the other two filling your ass, splitting you open… Or maybe we'd find time to get _all _of that done. We still have the stamina to go several rounds, leave you a wreck, covered and dripping in cum. The entire _world _would see how much of a dirty slut you are for us. They'd see you belong to us and no one else. All these strangers wishing they could feel how tight you are, hear how pretty you moan and beg, see how pretty you cry. But they'd never be enough, would they, baby? We're the only ones who can treat this pretty girl right."

Roger was moaning shamelessly, rocking down and against John as he hung on every word, trying to force his cock deeper, chasing the peak he would never reach. He felt so close to coming, but unless John decided to take that ring off of his cock, John would be coming long before him. John's thrusts were starting to get sloppy, a little more obvious that there was something going on as Roger's back bumped the edge of the table with each thrust, a telltale sign that John was close.

"You feel so good around Daddy's cock, princess," John said, voice nearing a pant as he struggled to stay quiet as the pleasure started to overwhelm him. "Daddy's gonna come in you, gonna mark you up, you'll be _dripping _with it. Fuck, you're such a good girl," he gasped, letting his eyes fall shut as Roger rocked against him one more time and the action tipped John over the edge, his cum spilling hotly inside Roger to mix with the mess of Freddie's cum and Brian's cum still inside him, a clear mark of their combined possession.

John was just about to pull out of Roger when a sharp pain suddenly bloomed across his shin, and he jerked in surprise and nearly made Roger topple off his lap, turning his head to find Brian with raised eyebrows and lips pressed together in barely-suppressed anger, tilting his head in the opposite direction.

Freddie was looking in the same direction, eyes wide.

John glanced in that direction to see what had them so bothered and nearly choked when he saw two girls who couldn't have been older than eighteen clearly approaching their table.

"Shit," he muttered, quickly tugging Roger as close to his body as he could, pressing Roger's face into the crook of his neck so there was no chance of him being recognized, and rearranging Roger's skirt to cover up the mess where they were still joined, Roger's thighs and John's trousers sticky with cum.

"So much for secrecy," Freddie huffed, just before the girls made it to the table and he was forced to paste on another fake smile, identical to the one he'd presented to their waitress, who he blamed for this sudden intrusion. "Hello," he greeted, making the girls look awestruck at the fact that Freddie Mercury himself had just greeted them.

If it weren't for Roger in his lap, pressed up against him with Roger's still prominent need trapped between them, John would've rolled his eyes in annoyance.

He really didn't mind being approached by fans, but they were kind of in the middle of something, and it took precedence over nearly everything else—including their fans.

He tuned out whatever conversation took place between Freddie and the girls, but he didn't miss when Brian slid a glossy picture and a marker across the table to him, the picture freshly marked by the hurried scrawl of Freddie and Brian's names.

Apparently the girls had come prepared. Again fighting the urge to roll his eyes, John carefully reached around Roger to pick up the marker, feeling Roger squirm around as John hastily scribbled his signature on the picture and pushed it and the marker toward the girls.

"Where's Roger?" one of them asked, and John froze. Before he could say anything, Brian answered for him, the lie coming out suspiciously smooth.

"He wasn't feeling well, so he decided to head out early," Brian said, offering the girls a warm smile, as if that would conceal the fact that Roger was currently a wrecked mess in John's lap.

John barely managed to tune out the girls' responses, breathing out a sigh of relief when they _finally _left. He made sure they were completely out of sight before he attended to Roger, placing his hands on Roger's hips to gently pull him off John's softened cock. A trickle of cum spilled down the inside of Roger's thigh as John shifted position slightly to settle Roger atop his own thigh, Roger squirming again as his cock brushed against the rough fabric of John's trousers.

John tucked his cock back into his pants and buttoned up his trousers before giving Roger his full attention, reaching for the plug in Roger's mouth and slowly pulling it free. Roger didn't say a word, but his eyes followed every movement as John took the plug in one hand and gripped the back of one of Roger's thighs with the other, pulling him up so John could press the plug into him. Roger moaned quietly as it sank in, slipping in to the hilt easily, slick with spit and lube and cum.

"I want to keep you full, so you don't forget who you belong to," John explained, watching Roger's eyes darken with renewed lust as John pulled Roger back down so he was seated atop John's thigh. "You've been such a good girl for us tonight," he praised. "Doing everything we've asked of you; keeping quiet, letting us use you. I think you've earned yourself a reward. I'm going to take your cock ring off, and I'm going to let you come, but I want you to come on my thigh. If you try to use your hands, you won't get to come. And you have to be absolutely silent when you come, or else you'll get caught. Do you understand?"

Roger nodded, shifting impatiently as though he was begging for John to hurry up and let him come. He was, although it was wordless, but John had known him long enough to recognize the desperate, starved look in those eyes, mixed with a heat so intense that John felt his cock twitch when their eyes met.

John's hand slowly crept underneath Roger's skirt, brushing teasing fingers over the shaft of Roger's cock, wet with precum. With a careful grip, he grasped the metal ring at the base of Roger's cock and pulled it upwards, Roger's hips twitching as the glide of the metal against his shaft sent pleasurable sparks throughout his body.

John set the ring beside him on the seat and let his eyes meet Roger's once more.

"Go on, pretty girl," John encouraged, voice soft and warm. "Be a good girl and come on my thigh."

Roger didn't need to be told twice, gasping as he rubbed his cock against John's thigh, the touch of the denim fabric against him straddling the line between painful and pleasurable. His cock had been left neglected for so long as his boys had taken care of themselves first that it didn't take more than five thrusts against John's thigh before he was coming, a wail tearing through him that he couldn't control even as John slapped his palm over his mouth to silence him. He came so hard his vision swam, his cock jerking and leaving sticky white streaks on John's trousers and the inside of his little black skirt.

He slumped against John once the last of his orgasm had washed over him, panting heavily, something wet on his cheeks that he couldn't tell whether it was more tears or sweat. John wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in close, kissing his temple and his forehead and the top of his head.

"You did so well, Roger. You're always so good for us. We love you more than you'll ever know," John whispered, stroking up and down Roger's back soothingly, letting Roger slowly come back to them.

"Let's go home."


End file.
